


Life is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you're gonna get

by Raindropsonmyeyelashes



Series: Scars & Dragons [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Draco and Harry are happily married, Draco doesn't like hospitals, Draco is very cute, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harry is always worried, Humour, Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister for Magic, M/M, Mpreg due to Soul Mate magic, Ron and Hermione are engaged, Teeth rotting cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindropsonmyeyelashes/pseuds/Raindropsonmyeyelashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is in the nature of life to throw in a few surprises here and there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains mpreg and lots of fluff. Also, my attempts at humour are pretty poor, just putting that out there.

"Sorry I'm late Ron." I sigh as I stumble through the office door, soaking wet and miserable. The umbrella I'm holding is dripping down my pant leg, wetting the cotton in random splotches across the fabric. As I flooed to Diagon Alley twenty minutes later than usual, I managed to get caught in a downpour whilst walking the short distance to the Ministry's worker's entrance. Bloody typical if you ask me. The rain came so suddenly that I barely had time to shove the file I was holding into my satchel and grab the umbrella that is currently making a mess of me and the floor. I managed to spill the muggle coffee that was in my flask down myself in the process, staining my shirt right in the centre of my chest. Now though my hands are finally free and I can get myself dried off and cleaned up.

Despite the rush to get rid of the water running down the length of my body, I can't help but notice that Ron hasn't answered me- which is peculiar as he usually manages to stay awake until 3pm, at least. In my haste, I hadn't realised that Ron isn't actually sitting at his desk; the chair (affectionately dubbed 'the Shrieking Shack's offspring' by Ron himself due to the ghastly screech it lets out every time it's sat on) has instead been pushed so forcefully into the cabinet behind it that the Sneakoscope my partner insisted on owning has fallen to the floor. My wand is out before I can consciously think about it.

"Ron?" I say again as I curb around his desk slightly, mentally preparing myself for seeing my best friend dead on the floor. I wouldn't be all that surprised considering the morning I've had.

"Ron!" I'm just thinking about how I'm going to tell Hermione about her fiancé's demise when there's a loud bang and a breathless 'bloody hell!' and I immediately know all is well.

"Blimey, Harry." Ron exclaims, climbing out from under the wooden desk. He's rubbing his head so his ginger hair appears knotted from where it's been in contact with his palm. Somehow, he's managed to tear the left knee of his trousers. "I didn't hear you come in. What happened?!" He breathes out when he notices that I'm soaking wet and scowling like an aggravated kitten. Or, at least, that's how Hermione would describe it.

"I went swimming in the Thames. What does it look like?" I can't keep the bite out of my voice, apparently. Luckily, Ron doesn't look taken aback by my answer. Still scowling, I move my satchel from where I had thrown it onto my own desk chair, so I can sit down and cast 'exaresco' to dry off.

"Ah," he replies, as though what I just said explains something crucial. "It's nice to see you've turned back into the angst-ridden, sarcastic teenager you were 7 years ago. Had a tough morning?" As I look across at my colleague, I notice he's placed the Sneakoscope back on top of the cabinet and pushed his chair under his desk. Now, he's sitting on top of the surface, one leg folded over his thigh, kneecap sticking out of the unnoticed tear. I suddenly feel quite small from where I'm sat, slouched like a slug.

"Sorry," I say sheepishly, the corners of my mouth turned up slightly, "a 'tough morning' is the understatement of the century I think."

Ron frowns, like he's thinking about something really hard, but as he opens his mouth to speak I add 'what were you doing under your desk anyway?' as an after-thought. I love Ron and all, but I'm not sure I'm ready to be quizzed on my morning-from-literal-hell just yet.

Suddenly, the man in question jumps up like he's just remembered something extremely important. I watch in slight bemusement as he throws himself on the floor again, this time in front of his desk, so he can peer underneath it. "I keep feeling something move under there, I swear, but every time I look there's nothing. Not even a speck of dust." He sounds exasperated and I imagine I would have laughed if I was in a better mood. Instead, I just force a smile and tell him that I think he's gone crazy.

"Crikey, maybe I have!" I snort and he pulls a face. He looks as though he's actually considering the possibility.

"You've got a stain on your shirt, by the way." Ron says as he picks himself up.

"Oh. Thanks, I'd forgotten about that." It's a lie, I hadn't forgotten. I was just purposely not thinking about it.

After the coffee stain is gone, Ron sits down on his chair, for the first time since I arrived, and grabs a quill and some parchment. "So, what happened? Did you and Draco have a fight?"

I sigh. "Sort of. But not really."

"You're talking in riddles, mate."

"Well, we didn't have a fight per say, just a disagreement because I wouldn't let him come in today."

"Oh. That's why you're so scowl-y."

"He's sick, Ron. He has been since Friday, that's why he didn't go to Holyhead with Pansy."

"Oh." Ron's twiddling his quill between his fingers, like he's trying to recall the event I've just mentioned.

"The one with the exploding suitcase." I sigh, for what feels like the fifth time this morning. It appears to be the only thing I'm capable of at the moment.

"Oh! Right, right. So, what's he got?" For some reason, I get the feeling he's just asking because Hermione has told him it's polite to act interested in other people's lives, even if you couldn't care less. Draco and I have been public knowledge since the battle of Hogwarts, or more specifically when he lost all sense of .... well, all sense of everything when he saw me 'dead' in Hagrid's arms and decided to jump in front of a Septumsempura curse aimed at Professor Mcgonagall. His injuries were nasty and he has the scars to prove it but he's still the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on. We got together in third year, officially, but we had a truce before that, after I found him in the Owlery and we had chance to be completely alone with each other for the first time. Draco and his mother worked as spies for the Order alongside Snape and, like his Godfather, he was an essential part of winning the war against Voldemort. It was seven years ago now that we walked into the Great Hall holding hands, Narcissa behind us, acting like I had always been a part of the Malfoy family. It's taken Ron about that long to be able to have a normal conversation about, or even with Draco, despite the fact we've all been working together as Aurors for almost four years now. Hermione took it better. When we all returned to Hogwarts for our eighth year, everyone generally had chance to get used to our relationship. I don't think it was a surprise to any of our friends when we got married three years later. Well, the media had a ball, anyway.

"I don't know." I answer Ron's question, after being silent for a while. "I think he must have picked up something from Portofino. He keeps throwing up, perhaps it's a bug." We took a holiday two weeks ago, for our anniversary. "I've told him that if he doesn't get better by Wednesday he's got to go to St Mungo's to get checked out."

Ron chuckles; it's a strange sound coming from his mouth. "How did he take that?"

"Not so well, as you can imagine. You know how he hates not being in control of things." It's true, Draco wasn't best pleased but his argument didn't have the effect I expect he imagined as it was being delivered whilst he was bent over the toilet. I left him on the couch with the TV on- something I insisted on buying and something he's grown to love- but I know my bad mood is purely because of worry.

"He'll be fine." Is Ron's intelligent answer. "Besides, I warned you both being that married is hazardous to your health."

"Ron. You are not married yet. That warning doesn't count."

"Yes, but my dad always used to say it until mum found out and made him sleep downstairs for three days." I shake my head before getting on with my work for this morning. Draco being the only thing I'm really concerned about.


	2. Draco

“Draco Malfoy-Potter?” I stand up at the sound of my name being called by a soft female voice. My hands are clammy, so I wipe them on my navy trousers and thank Merlin that there’s no wet patches left behind. I feel like a child. The female in question is standing just opposite where I was sitting; on an old worn chair in the drop-in waiting room at St Mungo’s hospital. I may not be into women that way, but even I can appreciate that the Healer in front of me carries a beauty that’s rarely seen now-a-days. Except for in my husband, of course. By the way every pair of eyes in the room is on her, it appears that I am not the only one to notice. It’s Wednesday morning and I promised Harry I would come and get checked out if the sickness hadn’t ceased. So, here I am. As I walk forwards, the Healer extends a slim hand, her red patent nail polish shining in the artificial lighting. I’m suddenly glad I wiped my hands.

"Hi Draco, my name is Healer Walsh," she says, her voice having not lost the soft tone from earlier. As I take her hand into my own, she continues; "It's nice to meet you. If you'd like to follow me just this way." I nod my head in acknowledgement and begin to follow her through a set of double doors and down a corridor. It's quiet, the only sound being the tap, tap, tap of Healer Walsh's high heels as she walks. I can't help but think she looks very put together, in a way that I hope I look myself. Clipboard clutched between both hands, she turns around to push open another door with her back and she smiles at me as she does so. The room is her office, I realise and she gestures me to sit down on the edge of a paper-covered bed as she settles into a chair opposite a desk.

"Okay," She says quite suddenly. I have to suppress a jump and her apologetic smile tells me she noticed. "So, I was having a look through your file before I came out to collect you and I have to say it's very impressive, not one visit since your birth."

Ah, thank you parents. "Yes, my parents had a private medi-witch who worked closely with only a handful of families. Now that I'm married, it's not something I've wanted to continue." It's true and I hope that my voice does not portray the resentment I am feeling. The private medi-witch was all father's idea. He thought it would improve our 'status' or something equally as ridiculous.

"Of course, whatever works best for you." Healer Walsh says, an air of genuine understanding about her. "That does mean, however, that all of your previous medical history will have to be transferred to our records. So I have to ask, when was the last time you sought medical attention- even if it was for something minor?" She taps her foot against the tiles subconsciously, I notice, as she jots down a few notes.

"The last time I saw the medi-witch was when I was 11, it was for a full health check before I started Hogwarts." Just on the brink of puberty. I'll never forget that one. "I've had a fair few Quidditch injuries over the years, but the most recent would have to be when I was treated by the medi-witch Madame Pomfrey after the battle of Hogwarts. I am an Auror but I work mostly with potions, so I usually have no need to visit here, especially if it's something minor."

"Okay. I must ask, and I apologise if this is a subject you are uncomfortable talking about, did you sustain any serious injuries during the battle?" I can tell just by looking at her, that she knows the answer. I try not to sound harsh when I speak in response.

"I'm sure you heard what happened." I don't think I succeeded, I felt the bite of the words as they left my mouth. Healer Walsh however, doesn't even blink.

She smiles softly at me with no trace of pity and the look makes me feel bad about being so quick to snap. "Regardless. I am asking on a professional basis. Besides, it's never been in my nature to make assumptions, whether they are formed on rumours or truth."

"It's not a widely known curse. It was a direct hit." I don't like to say the word. It just makes what happened worse, knowing that my own Godfather created something so evil. Harry found his book in at the beginning of 6th year and we didn't think much of it at first. However, we had no idea of the things it held, or who it belonged to (it managed to fall into the wrong hands- I'm sure you can guess who's hands they were by now). We were just using it to pass our potions class.

"Which curse, Draco?"

"Septumsempra."

"Alright. Well, considering it was a while ago since you were seen by any sort of healer, I would like to check a few things, if that's okay. Then we can deal with what you're here for." The change of subject is so abrupt, I have to blink a few times to register it. I was expecting a cascade of questions about the battle. I almost want to ask her if she knows more than she's letting on.

"Aright." I say, instead.

"Good. So, first of all, can I have your full name?"

"Draco Abraxus Malfoy-Potter."

"Okay. Full address?"

"40 Chatham Place, Hackney. London."

"Oh, that's a new one. I haven't heard of that place before."

"It's quite a new build, we haven't been there very long. Actually, it was an old warehouse used by the Ministry, but they haven't had use for it in over 50 years so they decided to convert it into 46 apartments. They're very lovely."

"Oh, actually now that you mention it I do recall seeing something about that in the Profit a while back. It's in a predominately muggle area, isn't it?"

"Yes, mostly, I know of a few magic folk who live around there though. We do have to be a bit careful but my husband and I both love the muggle parts of London as much as the magic parts, so the location was part of the reason why we signed up when we found out the plans."

Healer Walsh smiles. We continue, for ten or so more minutes, covering things like next-of-kin, allergies and family history. I don’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as I did when I first walked in, however I do feel a bit sick. I have to take a few deep breaths to steady myself.

“Um, I was wondering if I may have a drink of water?” I have to cough in the middle of the sentence to clear my throat and I am embarrassed for a good five seconds before Healer Walsh smiles brightly at me and retrieves a bottle from her top drawer. I mutter a ‘thank you’ and drink just enough to push down the feeling of sickness.

“Everything okay?” She asks, sounding concerned. I realise she has been watching me intently.

“Yes.” I say, although I’m not really convinced. I wish Harry was here, that way when I find out I’m dying I won’t have to deal with it all by myself. “I just feel a bit sick, that’s all.”

“That’s what you’re here for?” Healer Walsh has her full attention on me now, my file is sitting closed on her desk. I suddenly have the urge to fidget.

“Yes. It’s quite peculiar, it doesn’t last all day and comes on without much warning.” I have to suppress a shudder as I mentally recall the time I was doing nothing more than making myself some lunch when I, for no reason at all, had to bend over the sink and empty my guts.

“Okay. Have you had any other symptoms?”

“I’ve been a bit dizzy lately, but that’s all really.” I don’t have chance to say anything else before she asks to check my pulse. I don’t understand why, but I swear I see Healer Walsh’s lips twitch as I roll up my sleeve, like she is going to smile. But it’s gone before I can really say, so perhaps I imagined it. When she moves her fingers from around my wrist, she tells me that everything seems fine.

“I have a pretty good idea of what this might be, but I’m going to have to do a few tests first. And no, I’m pretty sure you’re not dying.” I want to breathe a sigh of relief before I catch myself- I still have no idea what is wrong with me. I lay on the bed, the paper crinkling underneath my body, just like I was asked to. I watch in fascination as she holds her wand above my stomach- it's there for just shy of five seconds before it glows emerald green. It’s gone as soon as it appears though and I’m being asked to sit up again.

“Slowly, Draco. We don’t want you to go dizzy. Have some more water if you need to.” I follow her instructions, slightly dazed and preoccupied with thinking about what the hell that green light could mean. Is it incurable? Am I going to lose a limb?

“So, you said I’m not dying but I’m not convinced.”

“No Draco, you’re not dying. Far from it actually.”

“Oh. Er, jolly good.”

Healer Walsh chuckles. “Yes, jolly good indeed. Now, this may or may not be a shock to you but I must offer my congratulations. You’re pregnant. Two weeks along.”

“What.” The word sounds strange coming from my mouth as I'm used to hearing the statement from Weasley. I misheard. Right?

“Here. I will explain.” She chuckles and hands me a leaflet labelled ‘Pure blood pregnancies’. I stare at the leaflet in my hands for a while, not sure what to say or do. I lift my head after a few minutes and Healer Walsh is looking right at me, smiling.

“You with me?” She asks and I snap myself out of it.

“Yes.” My voice sounds small, though. Even to my own ears.

“Well, it’s to do with that bracelet around your wrist. Your soulmate band. I’m right in saying that it appeared when you were married?”

“Yes. My husband has one too.”

“Of course he does. Do you know much about soulmates?”

“Only that it’s very powerful, ancient magic.”

“Well, you’re right about that. They are, indeed, one of the oldest forms of magic there is. Soulmates are the bonding of two souls, whose magic perfectly complements each other. They fit together like puzzle pieces.”

I nod, and she continues.

“I think you may already know this, but it’s often very difficult for pureblood families to conceive more than one child; some are lucky to have two. Having a soulmate bond, increases that chance of conception by almost 10%. That’s a lot. But the trick is to catch it at the right time so gender has no play. It appears that you have done just that. It is estimated that about 1 in 7 pureblood males get pregnant each year, whereas it’s 1 in 2 with females.”

I’m staring at my hands, my heart suddenly beating very fast. It hadn’t sunk in when she first said it, but now I guess it’s starting to. I have an actual, real human growing inside of me. My hands fly to my stomach, where it’s still flat and toned. It won’t be for much longer, though.

When I find my voice again, I ask the question that’s been on my mind: “I didn’t think there was anywhere for a baby to grow inside the male body?”

“Well, there isn’t normally, but as I said before if you catch it at the right time, your soulmate magic will change your body to accommodate it. That is why morning sickness is particularly tough for males in the first few weeks. Do you have any other questions? I have to ask, do you want to keep the baby?”

“Of course!” I say, surprised. The thought of not doing so makes me feel sick again.

“I just had to ask.” She smiles, big and bright.

“What next?” I say. “I don’t know anything about being pregnant and I have been for two weeks already what if I’ve eaten the wrong food or something and not known?”

“Draco, calm down. It will do no good getting stressed. I have lots of information booklets to give you, so you can have a read through those. There are books available too. I would recommend telling your husband as soon as possible.”

“Okay. Okay.” I confirm, thoughts drifting back to the baby in my stomach. I’m faintly aware of Healer Walsh saying something about ‘a follow up appointment in the mail’ and ‘leaving me to my thoughts’ before the door closes loudly. I feel a pang of regret at not saying thank you.

I sit there in silence for Merlin knows how long, my hand resting on my lower stomach the whole time. When I finally feel like I can move again, I notice that Healer Walsh has left a pile of leaflets on the bed next to me, along with a prescription for some vitamins. As I walk down to the pharmacy, legs feeling like jelly, there’s only one question on my mind: after four years of marriage, are we really ready to have a baby?

I really, really hope so.


	3. Harry

The air is hot and it flows around me like a tidal wave, engulfing me. Sand, warm and grainy beneath my palms, paints a picture of peace and serenity. There’s water, too and I want to go swimming. So I do, my time is completely my own. The only thing that would make this more perfect is if Draco was here with me. As soon as that thought hits, I’m falling- the water covering me. Smothering. My breath leaves me in a gush as I jolt awake, reaching forwards to grab my desk just in time to stop me clattering to the floor. I’m expecting Ron to be the figure looming above me, but it’s just my luck that I’m met with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Minister for Magic.

“Oh, Kingsley. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” I apologise, hoping my face doesn’t portray the embarrassment I’m feeling at getting caught sleeping on the job- on a Wednesday morning as well! Kingsley watches me scrambling to sit up straight and, instead of the harsh telling-off I’m expecting, just chuckles. I can’t meet his eye, even so.

“If it had been anyone else Harry, I might have a bit more to say about it.” His blue robes billow behind him as he walks forwards, inspecting the rows of shelving behind me as he speaks. “You haven’t had a day of since you started my boy, are you sure one isn’t overdue?”

“Oh, no,” I say, choosing to look at him this time, rather than down at my desk. “I am quite well, I just didn’t have a very good night’s sleep.”

“Draco?” he replies and I’m only slightly surprised. It’s hard to imagine how he remembers things- like my husband being sick- that are of little importance to him on the grand scheme of things. It’s easy to forget how caring Kingsley is and how much of a difference he has made to the lives of people like me.

“Yes, actually. He is quite unwell and was up most of the night. By default, I was too.”

“I am sorry to hear that he hasn’t improved, I know his presence is certainly being missed by his colleagues down in the Potions department. Wish him well from me, won’t you?”

“Certainly.” I say. “What was it you needed?”

Kingsley turns around to leave, stopping in the doorway to say “Oh, nothing, nothing. I was just checking in.” before walking away. I have an unsettling feeling that he’s changed his mind because he feels sorry for me; either way I’m glad because the situation could’ve gone a lot worse than it did. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect Kingsley’s been taking tips from Dumbledore- the mysterious air about him being very familiar.

I’m not sure how long I sit there for, staring at the door. I’m still slightly shocked. When I’m just starting to feel normal again, Ron wanders in; three books shoved under his left arm.

“Having fun, are you?” I ask, although I don’t need to. It’s pretty obvious where he’s been.

“Well I just went to see Hermione-“He starts, sitting down.

“Yes, I can see that. What is it this time? In fact no, I don’t want to know.” I’m teasing him because Hermione likes to give him books to 'read' every time he goes to see her in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“You know, they’re actually not so bad when you give them a chance.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s Hermione.”

“…yeah.” He replies sheepishly and I can’t help but snort.

“Oh by the way-“ I say, picking up my quill. Ron has put the books in his top drawer- the one with his house key in it- so that he’s more likely to remember to pick them up at the end of the day. Hermione gets personally offended if he forgets them. Which is a lot.

“What?”

“I am no longer waking you up if someone walks by during your ‘afternoon nap’.”

“Wha- why not?” He sounds puzzled and for that reason, just to confuse him more, I laugh.

“Why not? Because you’ll never guess who walked in here when I when I was dozing fifteen minutes ago.”

“Who?”

“Kinsley.”

“Yikes. Sorry mate.” As a matter of fact, he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “You’re still here so I take it you’re not fired.”

“Wow. Your observation skills never fail to amaze me, you know?” Laughing, I screw up some parchment into a ball and lob it at the side of his head. As he’s looking the other way, he turns just as it collides with his face. Things can, and will, get out of hand very quickly so I’m forced to stop the ‘war’ before it’s fully begun.

Half an hour later and we’ve both returned to the respective adults we are, who absolutely don’t have paper-throwing wars in the middle of the office. I’m reading through the notes from a recent raid when an owl swoops in and drops a letter on my desk. Ron throws him a treat as I inspect the front of the envelope- it’s from Draco.

“It’s from Draco.” I tell my partner.

“Oh Merlin.” he says in reply. “He’s not dying is he- I’ll go grey!” I shoot him a look that warns him not to go there and he backs off. “Did he actually listen to your advice and go to St Mungo’s?”

“It looks like it.” I mutter, suddenly feeling quite sick. What if it’s something serious?

“Harry,” I read aloud. “I have just returned from St Mungo’s and I can assure you that everything is alright, so please love, don’t worry. My mother is due to come over for lunch so I don’t have time to explain it all properly, but I will do once you get home. I love you, have a good day and be safe. Draco.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in and I suddenly feel about 100 pounds lighter.

“Well, that’s a relief.” Ron breaks the silence.

“Yes.” I smile. “It certainly is.” The rest of the day is filled with paperwork and it’s around 4pm before anything remotely interesting happens.

By that time, I’ve been sat at this desk for hours- I’m getting antsy and I keep getting distracted. I have a photo of myself, Draco and Teddy on my desk and, for some reason whenever my mind starts to wander, it wanders to that day. Sirius and Remus were the only members of the Order who knew about Draco and I for a long time, so when Tonks announced she was pregnant, Remus immediately asked us to be Godparents. Of course, we accepted. In the picture, Teddy is barely a week old and I’ll never forget the ease in which Draco held him- I’m ashamed to admit it now but I expected Draco to be weary of him as I had never seen him with children, let alone a baby, before. But, he took to him straight away and he looked so much at peace when he held him, despite there being a war raging around us. As Teddy grows, that’s never gone away. Draco is more doting than anyone expected. I can’t help the words that leave my lips next:

“Have you ever thought about having kids, Ron?”

He startles, looking supremely confused. “Er, no. I can’t say I have recently. Don’t you think I have enough siblings?”

“You do, but I don’t have any. Neither does Draco.” I’m still looking at the photo, lost in the memory.

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing." I say dismissively, not really concentration on anything but the photo.

“Mate." Ron says. "If you’re seriously thinking about this, I’m just letting you know now that I’m leaving the country. You and Draco together I can just about deal with. But both of your DNA combined into one person? No thank you.” I snort. Of course, what was I expecting him to say? I break my daze away from my husband, who’s rocking a sleeping Teddy in his arms, to look at the man sitting to the left of me. He actually looks quite horrified and I can't suppress my laugh in time before it slips out.

“Thanks, Ron. For being so supportive.” I say, sarcasm evident.

“You’re welcome. Any time.” He shoots back, the look of disgust still on his face.

Perhaps, one day, I’ll gather the guts to ask Draco the same question. I just hope, by the time I do, it won’t be too late.

Perhaps, one day, it will be our baby in the pictures.


	4. Draco

Who knew everything could change in such a short amount of time? I’m walking around my home, my hand resting on my stomach just above my belly-button, and it’s impossible not to think of all the things that will be different: the spare room decorated and filled with anything other than boxes and a spare mattress, the library brimming with children’s books alongside my novels on history and architecture. A high-chair at the table. Tiny shoes by the front door. Those thoughts alone fill me with so much joy that I’m surprised my face hasn’t broken in two from smiling so much. As I wander through the hallway, I’m suddenly reminded that there are a few very important people who don’t know about the baby- one of whom is about to arrive any minute. I’ve been wandering around for almost an hour. I try not to move too frantically- but it’s to no avail and I’m forced to remind myself that I don’t actually have to make the lunch because mother promised to bring something to help me feel better. That’s not going to do much now that I know what’s really the matter, but never mind. I busy myself making sure the kitchen surfaces are clean and checking there's no floo powder left around the mantle. Finally, after that is all done and my shoes are put away in the cloakroom, I have chance to sit down and scribble out a letter to Harry; I don’t want him worrying for no reason. I haven't got time to explain everything properly so that’ll have to wait until he gets home this evening.

I’m just attaching the letter to Ozzy the barn owl (a wedding gift from the Weasley’s) when mother herself steps out of the floo, looking prim and perfect as always. Her hair is twisted in it's typical style and she's gone for a rather gorgeous black lace robe, paired with red lipstick. She looks as though she's been out somewhere, or with someone, but I push that thought down before it gets too far.

“Draco, darling.” She says, her usual greeting, when she catches sight of me by the window. She slips off her shoes as she knows it bothers me and treads, bare-footed, over to where I'm standing. “How are you feeling?” She asks me, reaching up to place her right hand on my shoulder. She's carrying what appears to be a picnic basket, hopefully filled with food.

“I’m feeling better thank you, mum.” When she hugs me, I can’t help but wonder if she can somehow feel anything different. Of course, my rational mind knows she can't. I kind of hoped she would, though, perhaps a sort-of motherly instinct. If she does, she doesn't say anything. When she lets me go, she wanders into the kitchen and I watch her inspect the space closely, something I don't think she even realises she does. Recently, she has seemed very happy and I'm please; very pleased; that she's moving on with her life like I am.

“How are you, mum?” I ask out of habit, even though I only saw her last week. She turns around to look at where I'm leaning in the doorway, the basket on the island in the middle of the room. Mother has always said that her favourite part of my house (or apartment, as it is really) is the kitchen and I agree with her. The sleek, white surfaces, minimalist design in a light airy space is right up my street.

“Oh, I’m just splendid.” She replies, smiling at me and genuinely sounding that way. I smile back and she continues speaking: “I decided to throw caution to the wind and go and explore the muggle shops around here, and I have to say I rather enjoyed myself. Muggle style is very…peculiar but I did manage to buy a nice gown and I didn’t have too much trouble trying to pay. I suppose I can see why you decided to live here,”

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead: I’m surprised. It wasn't like she hated the idea of me living in a predominately muggle area, she just worried about how private it would be. “Wow, you’ve certainly settled in better that we could’ve hoped!” After father was sent to Azkaban, mother filed for divorce (something that was never actually signed by my father) and cleared out Malfoy Manor. She can’t sell it; not as a widow and nor can I because of great-grandfather's will; but I have no doubt that it will remain empty for a long time as neither of us will ever go back. That place is not somewhere neither my mother or I could ever call home. I don’t like to think about the lonely years I spent there, my father a human wedge between both my mother and I living a ‘normal’ life. Father died a year ago in Azkaban; closing that door for good.

“Yes, I rather am, aren’t I?” She laughs at this before tutting at me when she watches me sit on the surface next to her. She swats me with tea towel, a grin still on her face. Mother has since bought a small house in Godric's Hollow and it suits her down to a T- I really love going there and Harry does too because it's the location of his first home, even if he doesn't remember much of it. Slowly, we start unpacking the food in a comfortable silence, occasionally sharing a laugh when my stomach decides to rumble loudly.

Soon, the table is set with soups and bread and apple pie for dessert and we sit together, opposite, like we should have done every day of my life. I can’t even begin to express how happy I am to have my mother back, whole and hearty. It’s been six years, but I still can’t believe it. All that time we spent being shadowed by father, all forgotten.

“Mum?” I say after a mouthful of chicken soup- it's nice and hasn't actually managed to upset my stomach- interrupting her story about a muggle girl with green hair. I have a sudden urge to release what's on my mind because I can feel myself starting to get fidgety.

“Yes? Oh, I’m sorry, I was rambling again wasn’t I?” She looks slightly sheepish and I can't help but smile at her. Telling stories is one of my mother's many talents; when I was a child, she rarely read out of books as she instead chose to make up stories about the two of us having adventures. It makes my heart ache because soon that will be my husband and I; sitting together, telling stories to our baby. A baby, because I'm having a baby!

I chuckle, suddenly full of joy but nervous at the same time, even though I'm sure I have no reason to be. “Yes but that isn’t why I stopped you. I have to tell you something.”

“Oh. Is this about your doctors appointment? I didn't want to press as soon as I walked in, but I did start to worry slightly when you didn't speak up right away. Is everything okay?” Her face displays a look of true worry and I find myself unable to look at her. I peer down at the table and see that she's put her spoon inside her already empty bowl, which I find peculiar for a moment as I’ve never seen her do that before. She always used to put the spoon down at the side of her dish.

"Draco?"

“I’m pregnant, mum.”

She gasps, eyes blown wide. I’ve never seen her smile so bright. “Oh Draco! Are you really?” I nod and she stands, pulling me up with her. She wraps her arms around me so that I can bury my head in her neck like I used to when I was little. Except, I’m the one who has to bend down now. I feel like I’m about to burst into flames; I’m not sure I’ve ever been this happy before.

When we pull away, her face is bright and cheerful. ”Goodness, I was so worried. This is because of the soulmate bands, isn't it?"

"Yes." I breathe, feeling quite dizzy all of a sudden. I have to sit down. My mother lets go of me and moves the chair she was previously sat in so it's facing me. I wait until she sits before carrying on: "The Healer said that we manged to catch the cycle at the right time. She said 1 in 7 pureblood males get pregnant each year, whereas it's 1 in 2 with females."

"Oh, yes. Soulmate magic is something I haven't studied since I was a teenager. I always hoped back then that I would find the perfect man and we'd have a hoard of children together. I was unlucky on the husband front but I do have a son who is more precious to me than 6 children put together."

"Oh, mum. I'm so sorry you didn't get your fairy tale ending." I reply, feeling quite sad. My mother deserves nothing but the best and it saddens me that she hasn't had that.

"It doesn't matter now." She says, moving her hand up to brush my cheek softly. "Besides, now I get to live it all through you, my son. It is true what they say: your legacy lives on through your children." Feeling a lot like I might cry, I move my own hand to rest on top of hers where it sits on my cheek still. "How do you feel?"

“Honestly?” I say, taking a deep breath. “Completely overwhelmed.” It's true- I'm not sure it's fully sank in yet.

“Oh, of course you do. At least we know why you were so poorly, it is a rough road but you'll get there in the end. I would recommend ginger; it helped me a lot, anyway.”

"Thanks, mum. I'll keep that in mind." As her hand slips from my cheek, I notice that her eyes have welled up slightly. I'm about to ask what's wrong when she brushes me off and tells me that she's 'just so proud'. And that's all it takes for the tears to start falling down my own face because there's no feeling better than knowing you've made your mother proud. She pulls me into a hug again and we stand there for Merlin knows how long, before she pulls away and starts to clear up. The smile hasn't left her face the whole time.

“Mum, it’s okay, I can-“ I start to argue.

“Draco, no offence darling but you’ve just told me that you’re expecting my grandchild and if you think I’m not going to smother you, you’ve got another thing coming.” I laugh and role my eyes, but I don't argue further because I feel so exhausted and want nothing more than to sit down. I plop down on the couch- it's large and insanely comfortable and decorated with a collection of cushions Ginny Weasley picked out for us when Harry and I moved in. It's opposite the floo and a TV hangs on the wall above it- Merlin knows I love that thing; Downton Abbey is my downfall it would seem.

When mother returns, she's carrying two plates of apple pie and cream. I take one off her and mutter a 'thank you'. She sits down next to me and her feet join mine on the poof. “I suppose I’ll have to start researching which potions I need to stay away from soon. Foods too.” I say after a mouthful.

“Oh don’t worry, I'll handle that. I remember most things from being pregnant with you but I do have some books stored somewhere. I'll dig them out.”

"What's it like? Being a parent, I mean."

"It is the most rewarding thing you'll ever do, Draco. Remember when Teddy first rode a broom without you helping him?"

"Yes."

"Well, take what you felt then and times it by 100. That's what being a parent feels like. It's what I'm feeling now, what I always feel when I look at you and the wonderful life you've built for yourself. The wonderful husband you have."

I smile again, feeling like it's all I've been doing since I found out the news. "Do you think we're ready?"

“I’ve seen you both with Teddy, I think you’re ready. Besides, if you can survive hiding a relationship in the middle of a war, you can survive having a baby. It’s not going to be easy at all, but there's no team stronger than you and Harry.”

She’s right. There’s nothing Harry and I can’t get through when we’ve got each other. My mother starts telling a story again as I settle back against the cushions to finish my apple pie, this time one of me as a child (that will no doubt be told to her grandchild as soon as he or she is born) and my eyes drift to the floo- not long now until Harry is home.


	5. Harry

I climb out of the floo carefully, holding on to the marble fireplace as to not bang my head (which I’ve done far too many times). The first thing I notice is the smell; Draco is cooking something in the kitchen and the radio is playing pop music from a muggle station. I smile to myself because this is already a huge improvement to what I came home to yesterday- it’s the worst feeling in the world to know someone you care about so much is sick and there’s nothing you can do for them. Slipping off my shoes and over-cloak, I make my way into the hallway to deposit my things in the cloakroom before returning to the living-come-dining room to clear the ash from the floor. If I leave it, I always manage to step in it when I haven’t got anything on my feet and it bugs my husband to no end. The music’s still playing and I can hear him humming so I decide shouting him from here is better than sneaking up on him and giving him a fright.

“Draco?” I call, hoping he will hear me. I spot Ozzy perched on the window ledge and I go over to pet him. Of course, he doesn’t replace Hedwig, but he’s still pretty great nonetheless- he nips my finger in greeting.

“Hey love.” I hear a voice and turn around to see that Draco’s stuck his head around the kitchen doorway to greet me- he looks fantastic and not ill at all, which is a stark contrast to how he was a couple of days ago.

I smile at him and he smiles back, as always. I rush over there to wrap my arms around him, tight, because I’m just so thrilled that everything seems alright. He squeals slightly as I advance and ducks behind the door, laughing when I wrap my arms around him and lift him off the ground a few centimetres. His arms are around my neck and his fingers are tangled at the base of my hair while I hold him like I haven’t seen him in weeks. I dip my head and kiss him soundly and he sighs deeply against me, the ladle he’s holding digging into my shoulders. It’s over too quickly because he suddenly pulls away from me completely and runs over to the hob.

“The spaghetti!” I laugh because I can’t help it, before walking behind him so we end up standing back to chest. “This smells great, by the way.” I mumble into his hair.

“Thank you, it’s mum’s recipe. She only left an hour ago. How was your day?” He asks as I turn my face into his neck. When he smiles, I can feel it.

“It was okay. I got caught sleeping, though. By Kingsley.” I answer, not really paying much attention.

“What?” He turns around to look at me and starts laughing when he realises I’m serious. “Did you really? Oh Harry.”

“Yeah, I almost had a heart attack and Ron was no help because he was with Hermione.” I reply, chuckling to myself. Draco snorts and I hear him mutter ‘bloody Weasley’ under his breath when he turns back around to stir the pasta.

“I expect they’re missing me dreadfully in the Potions department.”

“Oh yes, it’s all I’ve heard about all day.” I joke.

“Har har.” He replies sarcastically, but he does smile a little when I tell him that Kingsley really did mention that his absence was being missed.

Then, I ask him how his mum is and his smile widens. I love watching him when I talks about her because he just looks so happy and I can’t help but grin myself when tells me that she brought soup around at lunchtime and went shopping in a muggle shop and actually bought something. We continue like that, talking back and forth, as we set the places and dish out; we sit together, like we’ve always done, and play footsie under the table like we did when we were eighteen. Draco swats my hand away when he catches me trying to steal a piece of his garlic bread and mutters that Sirius would have something to say about my terrible prestidigitation skills; but when I try to argue my case but he wins, as always.

It’s comfortable and perfect, yet there’s something he’s not telling me. I can tell, even though he hides it extremely well after years and years of practise during the war. I purposely haven’t mentioned the hospital visit and I’m hoping that, because he hasn’t said anything yet, he was being truthful when he told me it was nothing to worry over. Instead of thinking about it too much, I lean over and kiss him deeply to take him by surprise while I make a grab for his last piece of garlic bread. Again, he’s too quick and moves it out of my reach before I can get my fingers around it.

“Ha ha! You’re doing the dishes after that!” He tells me, giggling. I pretend to grumble but he just swats my butt with a cloth as I make my way to the kitchen. By the time I return, the table is tidy and he’s sitting on the couch with his feet under him. He turns around when he hears me come in and moves so his head is on the back of the seat; pillowed under his folded arms.

“What, you feeling guilty?” I tease, with no real bite behind it. He just laughs, shakes his head and says:

“Nope, not at all. Come over here, I want to kiss you. Right now.”

“Of course.” I joke, chuckling as I make my way over. “Just because you asked so nicely.” When our lips collide this time, it’s slow and loving and feels just like home. It makes my heart flutter in my chest like an over-excited butterfly. I climb over the back of the couch when we pull away for air and plonk myself next to him, burying myself in the cushions and pulling him on top of me so we’re lying down and his head is resting on my chest. We stay there for a while, I’m not sure exactly how long, just enjoying each other’s company. After a while, Draco moves so he can sit up again and look down at me where I’m still lying down. I run my left hand down his arm and up his neck and he shivers, smiles and tells me that he has something to say.

“What?” I ask, suddenly very concerned. Draco just chuckles.

“Don’t look so scared, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking is much worse that what it is.” While I appreciate the effort, this does little to calm my nerves.

“I’m pregnant.” He says quietly and I immediately sit up. The blood is pounding around my body so quickly that I feel as though I’m either going to faint like Ron or fall off the couch. I’m convinced I’ve heard wrong; just because I want it to be true so badly.

“What?” I say softly, trying to look him in the eye, but he looks down at his fingers instead. He looks terrified, so I move one of my hands up to stroke his cheek gently. “Are you really?” He looks up at me when he hears this and I know he’s caught the hopeful tone in my voice. When he nods, a smile pushing at his lips, I make a sound of glee that I’m not entirely sure is human and pull him into me as carefully as I can. He holds me like he’s afraid I’ll make a run for it and I can feel him quivering slightly. I pull back so I can look at his face and his expression is so full of hope I want to cry. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and when I tell him so he smiles bright and lets out a laugh that sounds like a sob. Then, when we kiss, I move my hand to his belly and imagine it round and full and he puts his hand on top of mine- the joyous sounds just fall out of both of our mouths like it’s the easiest thing in the world to be this happy because, with each other, it is.

That night, we fall asleep tangled together with our fingers entwined over Draco's belly, bright smiles on both of our faces. I dream about our family, captured in a single picture on my desk at work and it's perfect.


	6. Harry

Soft morning sunlight shines through the blinds and wraps itself around the room like a whimsical curtain made of feathers of pure gold. The room is alight with its zeal; every piece of furniture is glowing bright like a phoenix bursting into flames. We’re lying in bed, the covers pushed down to our ankles so we’re forced to snuggle together to stay warm. I’m not sure what time it is, but for once doesn’t matter- it’s my first day off since I became an Auror and I don’t even feel an ounce of guilt. Draco’s still sound asleep next to me and I can’t help but marvel at the fact that, while everything else around me is blurred, he’s always in focus. Literally, because I haven’t got my glasses on and he’s the only thing I can actually see without them at the minute. He looks the healthiest I’ve ever seen him; literally glowing. Pregnancy suits him more than I could’ve imagined. It’s been ten weeks since we found out we were expecting, but we’ve been purposely tight-lipped about it at work so far- informing anyone who’d asked that Draco had just caught a stomach bug. He’s not showing much; just a little swell that could pass as a dinner belly to a regular person, but my hands haven’t left that spot regardless. Somehow, I managed to keep Draco at the Ministry when we went away on raids without anyone getting suspicious, not that it matters anymore because we’ve decided that it’s finally time to let everyone know.

Last night, after work, we had our first appointment at St Mungo’s with a Healer that turned out to be Healer Walsh’s wife, Sophia. I was so nervous and I’m sure Draco was practically terrified but there was no reason to be- we’re having a boy who’s healthy from head to toe. Sophia had held her wand above Draco’s bump and cast a spell that neither of us had heard of before but it didn’t matter because we were suddenly looking at our son; a 3D projection of him. By the time we made it home, armed with many pictures of him wiggling around happily, we were both in floods of tears. Of course, we kept one for ourselves and I put it in a frame on one of the bedside tables so we can look at him when we wake up and before we go to sleep, but the rest are going to be used in our announcements. That night, we went to visit Narcissa to tell her the news (she cried too and framed the picture we had given her right away) before spending an hour sitting with my parents, Sirius, Remus and Tonks, Dumbledore, Fred, Mad-eye just talking. Draco tells me they would all be proud of me and I wonder if this is how my mum and dad felt when they found out they were having me all those years ago. My husband shuffles next to me in bed and curls closer, eventually opening his eyes and mumbling a ‘good morning’.

“Morning, love.” I say smiling at him and stroking his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, actually.” He replies, looking up at me sleepily. I’m glad he’s not feeling too bad; last week was the worst bout of morning sickness he’s had so far. “I feel excited though. I keep thinking about what he’s going to look like.”

“He’s going to be perfect. I know that for sure.”

Draco hums in agreement and wraps his arms around me again so he’s practically on top of me. “I’m hungry.” He mumbles into my ear.

“Sadly, that would involve getting up.” I chuckle, laughing even more when he wines ‘noooooo’ and buries his face into my neck. Instead, I pick him up and he curls his legs around my waist so I can carry him to the couch and move into the kitchen to start on breakfast. Cinnamon porridge with apple slices is one of the only things that didn’t make him sick last week, so I think it’s safe to stick with that for now.

He’s staring at one of the pictures from yesterday when I walk back in with two steaming hot bowls, running his fingers over it lovingly. As he accepts his, I can’t help but think that he looks so peaceful; sat there in his tartan pyjama pants and my grey t-shirt, bunny socks that I bought him as I joke on his feet. It’s November, so the days and nights are turning colder by the day. Our house is always warm though, no matter what and there’s nothing Draco loves more than buying and lighting muggle candles. He’s got some to match all the seasons, some that smell like sweets and others like flowers, and one or two that he won’t tell me where he got them from so I know that they cost an arm and a leg. When he catches me looking at him, he rolls his eyes but snuggles closer anyway.

“So, Mr Potter, do tell me how you plan on telling everyone about little Bump here?” He says, rubbing his belly for effect.

“Well Mr Potter,” I reply, smiling at his nickname for the baby, before getting off the couch and opening a drawer in one of the many oak sideboards we have jotted around. “I bought these the other day when you weren’t looking and I think they may be of some use.” He raises his eyebrows at me and smiles when I produce a pile of blue envelopes and writing paper.

“So, a letter and a picture?” He asks and I nod.

Wordlessly, he summons what he calls his ‘fancy quill’ and we get to work, sitting in our pyjamas in front of the fire, listening to the radio. At some point, we both end up singing into our fists like children. Draco’s top rides up as he throws his arms in the air and it’s almost like a reflex that I grab him by the waist and press my lips over his belly button. The skin there is soft and smells like honey because of the muggle ‘bump butter’ he’s been using. One of my hands is on the small of his back, the other on his left leg, while his are in my hair and gripping onto the back of the couch. He hums quietly and tugs my hair a little harder when I trace his skin with my tongue. He pulls me up, attaches his lips to mine and lays back into the plush material. The letters lay on the floor amongst some discarded cushions, forgotten for a short while, at least.


	7. Hermione

Ron and I step out of the floo together, holding hands as always- we walk quickly to the lifts as to not get caught up in the crowd. My high heels clop on the tiles loudly but the sound is covered by the hustle and bustle of the Ministry on a Monday morning. Ron’s thumb strokes the back of my hand as we pass the war memorial; something that Kingsley replaced the ghastly Magic is Might monument with as soon as he was elected Minister for Magic. I wrap my free hand around my finance’s forearm as he leads me in the right direction. The lift is empty when we step in, which is a surprise, but just as the doors are about to close we are joined by Pansy and Blaise. We say our hellos and have a quite conversation about what we did on the weekend, but it feels weird without Harry and Draco.

We received the owl last night, which did nothing more than simply state that the two of them were not coming in today. I asked Ron if he thought something peculiar was going on with Harry but he said, and I quote:

“The guy hasn’t had a day off since the beginning, give him a break.” So, I suppose I’ll have to let my inner Marauder go with this one. Ron gets out of the lift first and I give him a quick kiss to say goodbye and tell him that I’ll see him at lunch. Pansy is next, followed by Blaise and I.

Blaise is not someone I would’ve ever expected to call a close friend beforehand, but the war has changed a lot of things and we’re now pretty close. For colleagues anyway. We split down the hallway, both going our separate ways to our single offices. The first thing I notice when I get there is that there’s a letter sitting on my desk. The mail doesn’t start to arrive until 9:30 (it’s only 8:45) and it’s in a bright blue envelope that I’ve never seen before. I place my bag down in the corner and walk over to my desk slowly with my wand clutched tightly- I’m half expecting something, or someone, to jump out. When nothing happens, I sit down and pick it up to read. The front says Hermione in what I can clearly see is Harry’s dreadful handwriting. I immediately relax. I start to open the envelope carefully, wondering what in the name of Merlin it could be. There is a letter inside, written on small blue paper with an ornate floral border. I’m very confused, but I start to read anyway:  
‘Aunt Hermione,’ It says and my frown deepens. ‘I think it’s time to dig out some baby books!’

My eyes flit around my office quickly, expecting to see Harry or Draco lurking in the corner, ready to shout ‘We finally confused you!’ at me. Again, no-one is here. As I place the letter on my desk, I notice that there’s something else in the envelope. It’s a picture, or a scan I should say, with a tiny blob moving around contently. I grin, finally realising what’s going on, and head off in search for Ron.

When I get to his and Harry’s shared office, the only part of Ron that’s visible is his feet. I walk around his desk and find him on the floor, flat on his back with one hand clutching an open blue envelope, the other thrown over his eyes.

“Ron!” I say, kicking the bottom of his feet. He starts, but plops back down like a pancake as soon as he sees it’s me. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“Hermione,” He whines, sounding the same as he does when he sees a spider. His face is screwed up in disgust and I’m tempted to laugh. “They’ve done it.”  
I’m about to ask what it is he’s talking about when he whispers: ‘They’ve reproduced!’ like it’s physically painful for him to say.

“Oh Ron.” I reply, showing no sympathy. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?”

He sits up very suddenly and looks personally offended by what I’ve just said. “Dramatic?!” He whinges. “Hermione, this is Harry and Draco we’re talking about. The both of them combined! I’m going to go bald!” He flops back down on the floor. I decide to leave him there.

“You’ll be fine, Ron. Besides, these are our best friends, can’t you at least pretend to be happy for them?” I hear something that sounds an awful lot like ‘no’ come from Ron’s mouth but I elect to be the bigger person here and ignore it because he’s acting like a child. I grab his letter from his fist before I turn to leave and he lets it go willingly.

‘Uncle Ron,’ It reads. ‘It looks like you will be leaving the country sooner than you thought!’ I chuckle to myself and roll my eyes, making my way back to my office to write a congratulatory letter of my own.


	8. Epilogue

By the time Ron Weasley receives a fourth announcement in the mail, concealed perfectly in a pale pink envelope, he still hasn't gotten around to leaving the country. As he watches James Sirius, Albus Severus and Lily Scorpia playing with his own children Rose and Hugo, he thinks 'sure, another one can't be so bad'.

One might say, he spoke too soon.


	9. Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of these pictures; I found them all on Google Images.

[Draco's hospital outfit](http://25.media.tumblr.com/98c2c84a173f5e99fa02e912f97180b5/tumblr_muaj047t1P1so07w3o1_1280.jpg)

[Harry's work outfit](http://41.media.tumblr.com/2d5f89a656bb85980d949e3ee9f05aad/tumblr_nl33onnegi1ro9nbqo1_500.jpg)

[Ron's work outfit ](http://41.media.tumblr.com/08d150f71816225395befdc56dd8c1c2/tumblr_ne23waSycm1rl5myko1_1280.jpg)

[Hermione's work outfit ](http://25.media.tumblr.com/b1bf925eacf8168db40f5711d54388f5/tumblr_myip88y1ba1qkv30do1_500.jpg)


End file.
